Principles
by Alone in a New Place
Summary: A 'Natarle vs. Mu' scene about certain personal principles needed to be upheld during wartime. [bad wording]


I wanted to have this up yesterday, for Mu's birthday, an' all—why not put up two stories instead of one, but . . . I've felt so sick yesterday and today I wasn't able to finish that one last _paragraph_ till now. Hopefully you cant tell which paragraph it was.

Oh my goodness--something that isn't Mu and Murrue?-!-?-! (But, there is Mu in here) Well, I've been wanting to attempt characters that i've never written before . . . and this is my short result. Maybe I should just stick to what I'm used to, hm?

Anyway, this was inspired by something a favorite teacher of mine said in class once. . . . Odd where things come from. Taking place during GS Phase 11 or so. Seeing as how I've never written Natarle before, keep in mind the OOCness . . . Ack, Mu is more like when he's with Murrue—and Natarle's . . . just 'Ack.' She's too . . . ("insert word here").

Oddly, looking back, I cant remember a _pure_ "Mu - Natarle" scene in the series. I don't remember the two ever being alone together. . . . Hmm—maybe my memory's just that bad.—well, there was that tiny dialogue between them at JOSH-A, but Fllay was with them then, so I don't know if that would count or not . . .

* * *

**Principles**

Floating aimlessly down the Archangel hallways, Mu grinned at the small unnamed snack he'd recently swiped from the mess hall. It wasn't all that good, but he had been too hungry to care. Being up for practically the entire night had worked up his appetite.

Taking another bite, he sighed, mind tossing over everything that'd happened. One problem after another since he'd come aboard. _Helipolis, Artemis, the lack of supplies, Junius Seven . . . _Mu sighed, running his free hand through his hair._ . . . Then comes that pink-haired princess of a girl . . . 'Lacus Clyne'._—If anything, it was the most _amusing_ 'annoyance' they'd encountered so far.

He took another bite, finally finishing the snack and freeing his hand for a moment—before pulling out another one from his pocket. Absently, he pulled the wrapper off, mind drifting to where he'd just come from.

Mu grinned. That makeshift court in the Captain's room . . . over Kira and his reckless return of the Archangel's "hostage" . . . Honestly, Mu couldn't seem to get angry with the kid—once everything was all said and over with . . .

_And_, the boy got off on everything because he was a civilian. Which was good.—The Lieutenant was in change of the Defense in the officers' little trial. So . . . in effect, _he_ won, too.

Holding down a cough, Mu shook at his head to wryly clear it—The fact that he only won because Kira spoke up in his _own_ defense _was_ a bit unsettling to the soldier's esteem. . .

"Mm," Mu shrugged, mumbling _his_ own defense, "Anyone who can learn the book inside and out isn't spending their time wisely at all _anyway_ . . ."

Faintly his mind wondered as to where he'd put his cap after the 'trial' when:

"_Lieutenant_!" . . . _Her_ voice rang down the hallway. Looking up, Natarle Badgiruel stood at one of the crossroads. The dark woman, though low of rank, stood there, face straight and professional and easily not looking for a laugh. "I need to speak to you, Sir. Maybe not in the hallway if we can help it."

Mu fearfully swallowed what he was chewing, before nodding his agreement.

'Jumping off' the conveyor, he moved to land himself before her on the deck of the corridor.

"Of course, but . . ." Mu cocked an eyebrow. "—Is it about something . . ." He popped the last half of his snack into his mouth and flashed an impish grin. ". . . private?"

"Actually, it's about your conduct earlier," she returned, stern as ever.

"Eh . . ." he shrugged, playfully uneasy as she stared at him. "_Here's_ as good a place as any to talk. . . . What's on your mind?"

Natarle answered only with frustrated silence.

Mu grinned at the sight.

_'Annoyed because you lost the case to me?'_ he wanted to say—but even the Hawk of Endymion knew that'd be taking it a bit too far. . . . Plus, he hadn't exactly figured the raven-haired woman out yet . . . or how far she could go.

Instead: "You came all this way to speak to me . . . yet now you're quiet," he muttered, wondering aloud—eyes dancing.

Natarle moved her self closer as Mu inched back. Even her steps were seeped in hostile authority.

"I've been taking note of it since Heliopolis," she started, voice clipped. "I haven't brought it up yet, only because part of me knows someone like you won't listen."

Mu faltered in his musings, face imperceptibly draining.

"Someone like me?" He repeated slowly. He turned his face away for a moment, gathering the grin back into his voice, however wry. "If you know 'someone like me' isn't going to listen, then why are you talking now?"

"Forgive my rudeness, Sir, but it has to be said," Natarle murmured, head habitually down—before the embers within began to suddenly blaze again. Everything she'd only been thinking for too long just . . . came out.

"Your conduct so far on this ship—just like back in the Captain's quarters today, it—It _can't_ go on like this," she suddenly attacked. "Your attitude . . .—Has it never occurred to you that you're in the _military_? You are the highest ranking officer on this ship as of now. If you weren't our only real pilot, you would be our Captain by default—no matter what you said—instead of Lieutenant Ramius. And though it _is_ true you've helped us pull through many disadvantageous situations _already_ . . ."

"As it should be," he cut in with a smirk. But then Natarle's eyes narrowed even farther.

"But, when we're not in any real threat . . .—and sometimes even when we are—all the ship sees when they look at you is a chil—!" Natarle suddenly bit her tongue, remembering her military place.

But, glancing up . . . the fact that the Lieutenant's grinning expression hadn't changed—with the exception of a small blemish of surprise—. . . she darkened. "Or . . .—at least—they see some irresponsible, arrogant and slacking soldier."

"You mean '_you_ see', right?" He cornered, smiling—but she just ignored his taunt. Swallowing down her outburst, Natarle steadied her jagged eyes with Mu's and went on, slowly and carefully choosing every word.

"_Sir_ . . . maybe nobody's told you . . . but we're fighting a _war_. Hopefully you can keep to remember that.—I mean, you don't even seem to take life seriously at all!"

At her last words . . . the Lieutenant's face _finally_ changed. It became deathly serious, laughing eyes suddenly sharp. His casual laid-back posture became straight, and it gave him a more filled-out, broad look. It was at that moment that Natarle first realized exactly how big the man was compared to her. Before it wasn't really noticeable, so she never paid it any mind. Now, though . . . he was towering and obviously physically strong.

When his voice came, however, it was still the deep lull they'd all come to recognize . . . but this time it was without even a hint of a laugh or smile.

"Ever thought . . . that _maybe_ . . . the reason I don't take life seriously enough . . . is because I take life _too_ seriously?" he muttered.

Natarle bit back her breath in fear of it somehow sounding like a gasp as the man stared her down. The Ensign was used to military intimidation—and she had proudly gotten to the point where it didn't faze her at all. But _this_ . . . was not military intimidation—not in the least. _This_ shook her—_he_ shook her to a point she could consider 'fear'. And that scared her.

Even so, she held firm.

Just as the silence of the corridor found the two officers cold, Lieutenant Mu LaFlaga suddenly broke back into a playful beam . . . as if nothing had changed at all.

"Not good. Not good," he chided himself, wagging that finger beside of him in mock scold. Natarle forcibly held her ground opposite Mu, oddly unsettled by his sudden return.

He kept chuckling. "Too much can wear you out, you know."

Natarle couldn't help the slight cock of her head. His sudden amusement was lost on her.

But then the ship's Alarm&Alert came on, resounding out of the speakers.

"All hands! Level One . . ." For a moment, the two officers stood in the hallway, unmoving, as if caught up in what the alert was saying.

Mu lazily scratched at his head.

"Ah, that's me, isn't it," he sighed, looking up to the nearest speaker as the alarm kept blaring. He pushed himself from her and began to float down the hallway. "Come to think of it . . . _You_ should be getting back to the Bridge too, Ensign." Mu grinned, calling back. "Maybe nobody's told you . . . but there's a _war_ to fight, you know."

His laugh slowly disappeared around the corner, following the man.

Natarle turned her eyes back to the usual violet glint before turning herself around. Beneath the shill alert call, the hardened soldier pulled at her cap, fixing its fit with a huff.

_As if that man could **ever** take life seriously . . ._


End file.
